


Like Vines (We Intertwine)

by turnyourankle



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alien Harry, Aliens, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, M/M, Near Death Experiences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 06:05:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7703416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnyourankle/pseuds/turnyourankle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The "Roswell" AU where Harry is an alien, Louis is not, and they've both been pining after each other for far too long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Vines (We Intertwine)

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Like Vines (We Intertwine)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8210416) by [EstherftLarry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EstherftLarry/pseuds/EstherftLarry)



> This is one of the most self-indulgent things I've ever written, which is why it's so short. Couldn't quite justify making it longer. No need to have seen "Roswell" for this to make sense, as only the basics are there. Oh, and they're still in England.
> 
> I'm happy to clarify the "near death experience" tag for anyone who is concerned. It's integral to the plot, though. 
> 
> Many thanks and curses to Kati for both supporting and enabling my self-indulgent ideas.

“He's staring at you,” Niall says as he passes behind Louis, quickly disappearing into the kitchen before Louis has a chance to ask what he’s talking about. 

He spots Harry immediately when he turns in the direction Niall came from. He’s taking a seat in a booth by the window, in Louis direct line of sight. Liam is sliding in across from him, glancing at Louis when he notices Harry’s staring in his direction.

Harry only diverts his eyes when Louis looks over, but still. 

“He's avoiding me,” Louis says when Niall has returned by his side. He has two tall glasses of water on a tray, ready to serve the new arrivals. He still can’t help but flick his gaze in Harry’s direction.

“He’s your lab partner, isn’t he? How could he be avoiding you?” 

Louis glares at Niall, and hands him two menus, smacking him the chest with them. 

“Well he’s not sitting in my section, for one.”

Niall rolls his eye. The same eyeroll Louis has gotten used to seeing every time he’s mentioned Harry for the past couple of months.

“But he’s _here_. While you’re on shift. S’gotta count for something.”

“He doesn’t know my schedule. Maybe Liam’s the one who wanted to come. We do have the best tiffins in town.”

“I’m sure Harry could make better ones.” 

Louis grimaces. That’s just rude and wrong. 

“Oi!” Louis pinches Niall’s side and he scampers away before hesitantly coming closer, hands up defensively, using the menus to wave him off.

“I’ve had his baking, he’s bloody good.” Niall is just proving Louis' point, because _he_ hasn’t had any of Harry’s cookies because Harry is avoiding him. Whatever.

“You’re working here, you know, not in Styles’ personal kitchen. You should be talking about how _we_ have the best baked goods in town, not him.” He pushes Niall out from behind the counter. “And I’m sure they’re expecting some service.”

Niall hops off with a dismissive wave, stopping promptly at Harry and Liam’s table. They’re smiling, all three of them, and Harry’s tearing at his napkin. It almost looks like he’s trying to pay attention to Niall, and not look at Louis, but that’s probably all in Louis’ head.

It doesn’t matter that Niall doesn’t believe him, it’s true: Harry Styles is totally avoiding him. When Louis had been teamed up with him for bio lab at the start of the term, he’d been excited. This was his chance to finally win Harry over. Louis had only spent all of last year making what Niall coined goo-goo eyes at him in the school corridors, and trying to entice him to come over and start a conversation during lunch, looking for him at every party they attended so he could challenge him to a drinking challenge. 

It just didn’t work.

At first he’d thought Harry was just shy. Louis took it upon himself to start some conversations of his own in the canteen and sure, Harry would oblige for a minute or two. But then he’d withdraw and go back and sit with his sister or Liam or both. 

Louis had asked Harry if he wanted to do some lab work at his house (he hadn’t really thought ahead, since his house was definitely not ideal for concentrating _or_ flirting) but Harry’d just ducked his head and politely declined, saying he worked better alone and could they work over email instead? 

So yeah, Harry’s definitely avoiding him.

But Niall’s right, Harry’s eyes keep straying in Louis’ direction. The attention warms him right up down to his fingertips. He leans over the biscuits stacked on the counter, carefully rearranging them just so. His fringe sweeps down over his face, grazing his cheekbone and he knows he looks good from this angle. 

Niall returns with a bounce in his step and smile as wide as ever. “Two teas, an avocado toastie and an egg and bacon sarnie. Big on brekkie, those two.”

He drops the order back at the kitchen, and returns with a frown.“I think we’re out of hot sauce though. Those two always drown their meals in hot sauce.” 

“Oh?” Louis frowns, uncertain as to why Niall knows this and he doesn’t. More evidence that he is being ignored.

“Ah, d’you want to tell ‘em we’re out?” Niall wiggles his eyebrows. 

It’s an option, but Louis has a better idea. “I can just go pick up some more across the street.”

Niall blinks in surprise. “You’re going to the shop? Without being blackmailed? Wow.”

“Yep,” Louis pops the _p_ and trails his hand over the counter as he walks out from behind it. This is brilliant. He has a chance to saunter right in front of Harry, and he knows he can pull off a mean saunter. 

“Gonna wear your apron, are you?” Niall asks, weight on his elbow as he watches Louis curiously. 

“Oh, I suppose I should take it off.” He sneaks a peak at Harry’s table, and yep, he’s looking. He turns his back to Harry, stretching out as he languidly loosens the knot above his bum, trying to draw as much attention to it as possible. “Wouldn’t want it to get sullied by the harsh city air, would we?”

“What are you doing, Tommo?” Niall asks with a smirk. 

Louis stretches his arms before tugging at the front of his apron, lifting it up above his head and stretching out until he can feel air kissing the small of his back.

He really hopes Harry’s still looking. If he is, this ought to have him choke on his ice water. 

“Taking off my apron, of course.” He cocks his head and carelessly tosses the bunched up fabric in Niall’s direction. He catches it with a laugh. It sounds like he mumbles something else, but Louis is too busy focusing on not obviously staring at Harry while still staring at Harry to notice. 

Harry’s blinking in Louis direction, and Louis grins broadly. He waves at Harry, who turns away immediately, but looking up quickly after. 

“Hi Liam,” Louis says as he passes their table out the door. Liam says hi back, which seems to be all the reason Harry needs to look back at Louis.

He can’t help it, he’s still glancing through to Harry’s table when he leaves the cafe. The sunlight’s hitting the window at the wrong angle for Louis to see inside as he crosses the street.

With each step he sways his hips just a bit more, and steals glances towards the cafe.

Something glints in the corner of his vision, and he wants to turn his head but he thinks he can make out Harry’s outline, so he squints in the direction of the cafe instead. 

There’s a shout from across the street. And another, directed at him, which prickles his nerves. It’s probably nothing.

He turns towards the sound and is faced with a car, right there, in front of him and then sharp and hard against his stomach. 

He tries to grab onto something, anything, fingers catching against the bonnet of the car as the pain blooms inside. He makes a sound, he thinks, before losing his grip, thudding against the asphalt.

 

*

 

Louis comes to with Harry’s face hovering close to his. 

“You have to look at me,” he says, voice strained. His brow is tense and he’s sweating, drops glinting at his temple before sliding down his forehead. Some gather around his eyes, and Harry blinks them away furiously.

Why is he sweating so much?

“Harry, hi,” Louis chokes out; the only thing he can think of to say. He doesn’t sound quite right, and he’s not sure what’s going on, but Harry’s here. Here with him, looking at him. So whatever’s going on can’t be that bad.

He can feel the ground beneath him, stray gravel digging into his back. And Harry’s so, so close. Closer than he’s ever been. Louis could probably tilt his head up a bit and catch Harry’s lips with his. If only he could actually move.

That’s probably not good, is it? That he can’t move?

There’s something warm and firm against Louis’ belly, grounding him again. It’s Harry. Harry’s touching him, his palm hot and heavy against Louis’ stomach.

His touch is electric, little jolts pulsing into Louis and he shivers. That doesn’t make sense, does it? Electric touches? Louis blinks hazily at Harry’s serious, concentrated face. 

Harry must catch on to his concern, bringing up his other hand to Louis’ jaw. 

“You’re okay,” he murmurs and his brow furrows further. He chokes out a breath, hand dropping from Louis face.

He looks like he’s in pain. 

“Are you hurt?” Louis asks.

Harry shakes his head, curls draping around his face as he leans down. “Don’t talk. I’m almost done.”

Louis wants to ask what exactly Harry’s almost done with, but he’s distracted by the dark timbre of Liam’s voice from far away. “Harry, we have to go. The ambulance is on the way.”

Louis tries to turn in Liam’s direction, he’s just beyond Harry’s shoulders. His arm is outstretched, holding back rubberneckers whose eyes are bulging. Niall’s behind him, hands on Liam’s shoulder, trying to move him out of the way. Louis thinks he can hear Niall’s accent strong and voice wavering. He’s probably cursing Liam’s ears off.

“Tell Niall I’m fine,” he says, and Harry blinks at him again. 

“Okay.” He turns back to Liam, but doesn’t actually say anything. He just nods, and Liam tosses him a bottle of ketchup. Why was he carrying around a bottle of ketchup?

“Go start the car,” he tells Liam, and Liam runs off, no further explanation needed.

Harry catches it easily, and then smashes it to the ground. Louis observes in confusion. He must still be out of it.

Harry pours out some ketchup onto Louis shirt and belly, smearing it. He drops the broken bottle next to Louis.

“Stay down until the ambulance gets here. You’re fine. You just broke the bottle when the car startled you, okay?”

Harry gets up as he speaks, looking a bit unsteady as he shakes his legs out. 

Louis doesn't have time to answer before Harry’s off, running in the same direction Liam disappeared. 

Niall crouches next to him while Louis steals glances at Harry’s retreating back. He’s not sure what happened, but he’s quite certain it’s not what Harry told him. 

 

*

 

Harry’s right: the doctors find nothing wrong with him. He doesn’t have so much as a bruise on him. A mild concussion is the only explanation the doctors have for his apparent memory loss, although he didn’t hit his head from what they can tell.

He’s dismissed quickly, leaving A&E on unsteady feet and clutching his sullied clothes in a plastic bag. 

His mum hovers over him when he gets home and he hardly gets a second to think. She’s made him cheesy cauliflower and tomato toasties, and she keeps stroking his hair, and hugging him to her chest as soon as he puts his fork down. 

It’s exhausting, being scrutinised like that. Especially since there’s absolutely nothing wrong with him, aside from a slight memory problem that he hasn't even told her about. The girls are all watching him warily as well, and he excuses himself to bed early, blaming the stress of the day, but really he can’t handle all the questions when he doesn’t really have any answers. 

He doubts he’ll be able to fall asleep, head spinning, but he locks his bedroom door and gets undressed quickly. He dumps his clothes from work out onto his bed. His senses assaulted by the sweet and tangy smell of dried ketchup. He brings his sullied shirt up to his face to poke at the dried globs of ketchup, and notices a tear.

It’s not a small tear, either, it’s completely unsalvageable. The shirt is ripped open to the point where he might as well throw it out. 

That doesn’t make sense, considering he’s completely unharmed. Shouldn’t he have some scrapes to show for this massive tear? He lifts his shirt instinctively, to check again and notices it right away. A silver handprint adorning his belly, right where Harry’s hand was pressed against him.

It’s faint when he first sees it, fingertips skimming over the surface of his skin. But it gets bolder, the silver shining brightly the more he touches it. 

His head aches, and his hand is trembling as he pushes against his stomach. At least it doesn’t hurt.

He’d like to take this shirt out back and bury it in the backward, or through it in someone else’s bin. But he’s not ready to leave his room and be faced with even more questions and concerned looks. Instead he folds up the shirt carefully, stuffs it back into the plastic bag he got from the hospital and pushes it into his rucksack. He’ll have to worry about it tomorrow. 

Louis tries to sleep on it, but it feels like his skin is burning right where the print is, and he can’t get over it. He keeps touching it, and it feels fine. It’s smooth under his hand, feels just like the rest of his skin, not a bump or groove to be felt.

He strokes it gently, wary that it’ll start to smart any second, and thinks of Harry. It has to have something to do with Harry. The only thing he can properly remember is coming to with Harry’s hand on him. Probably on the exact spot that the silver print is now. 

What if the symptom of some rare disease, or cancer or summat and Harry’s embarrassed about it? He could have excessive magnesium secreted in his sweat that reacted with Louis’ skin. Maybe that’s even why he doesn’t want to talk to Louis, he’s embarrassed about being ill. Louis’ heart aches at this fictitious scenario, until he realises maybe it’s the opposite. Maybe _Harry doesn’t know he’s sick_. Louis could hold the key to his recovery.

And then he thinks of his torn up, bloodied shirt. The shirt that Harry very purposefully covered in ketchup. His scientific reasoning tumbles out the window. Whatever’s going on definitely has something to do with Harry, but unless he himself tore up the shirt and bled all over it… he has some serious explaining to do.

 

*

 

Louis waits for Harry after his History class and ambushes him quietly. He tugs at the strap of his rucksack before walking off, not wanting to attract too much attention to himself. He’s noticed too many stares all morning, and it’s making him antsy.

Harry frowns in response, but he follows Louis without asking anything. Louis leads the way to the music room, which he knows from experience is free. It’s a great place to hang out when he’s bunking off. 

Louis barely waits until the door clicking shut behind him before speaking.

“Harry, you have to tell me what you did.” He tries to sound stern, and regrets it immediately when he notices Harry shifting where he leans against a desk. He’s pushing his toes against the floor, hair hanging low over his forehead. 

He seems almost scared. 

“Sorry, dunno what you’re talking about.”

“Yesterday. When I fell or like, got hit by the car. What did you do?”

He keeps starting at the floor, fingers twisting.

“Harry, honest, I don't remember what happened. Don't you think I should know what happened? The doctors were asking questions I couldn't even answer. Like did I brace myself with my hands or just fall straight down? They couldn’t understand why I didn’t have any bruises at all, since it sounded nasty.”

Harry's head whips up at that. “You were good weren't you?”

“Yeah, yeah I was. I'm fine.”

He shrugs. “Dunno what you want me to say, then. I know just as much as you.”

He sounds a bit more defiant now, but his knuckles are white with how hard he’s holding onto the strap of his bag.

Louis inhales deeply. It’s now or never. He drops his bag to the floor, and it lands with a thud. He doesn’t bother speaking before lifting the hem of his shirt, showing off the handprint that he’s quite certain Harry put there.

Harry fishmouths and straightens up. He moves closer before backing away again, as if he’s worried he’ll scare Louis off. 

“Does it hurt?” He asks, and his voice is so small.

“No, it just like, tingles a bit when I touch it.”

Harry blinks.

“Like how?”

“You put it there, shouldn’t you know?” It comes out harsher than expected, and Harry’s nose wrinkles as he ducks his head. 

“I’m sorry I never-- I never did that before. On a person.”

Okay. Well, at least they’re getting somewhere.

“Did what exactly?” He asks but Harry doesn’t seem to be paying attention. He’s biting into his lower lip, eyes still trained on Louis’ belly. He lets his shirt drop and Harry’s eyes snap to his face immediately. 

“Did they,” Harry starts and swallows. “Did they see the mark? The doctors, I mean.”

“It wasn't there. It only showed up last night.” 

“Okay.” Harry arms to deflate a little, shoulders drooping. He rubs at his face, palms pressing into his eye sockets while he breathes deeply. “I just wanted to help.”

“Right.”

“You really don’t remember anything? You don't remember running out into the street?”

Louis shakes his head.

“I know I needed to pick up something we were out of. I dunno. Sauce maybe? Was something for your order, I think. Niall said we could just tell you to order something else but I-- I wanted to show off so I left the cafe to go pick some up across the street.” 

The thing is Louis knows, he knows he wasn't paying attention to where he was going because Harry was there and Louis wanted to catch his eye and he did. Louis was trying to get Harry’s attention even as he crossed the street, his thudding loudly in his chest just at the sight of Harry’s smile-- but then. “Then I was on the ground and you were touching me.”

Harry’s thumb is poking at his mouth now, nail nervously digging into his lip as he waits for Louis to continue.

Louis clears his throat. “And I could tell you we saying something because your mouth was moving but I couldn't hear or really focus on anything except where you were touching me.” He blushes at the implication but Harry doesn't seem to react to the admission. He’s still staring intently into Louis’ eyes. 

“I was telling you to hold on, that you’d be fine.”

Louis licks his lips. “Why? What happened?”

“You were hit by the car it just… I guess you didn't see it coming. It was really… Not good.” Harry's face contorts, a grimace shadowing his features. “I had to make sure you were okay.”

“I was hit by a car? Like, proper hit? Not just bumped or grazed?”

Harry nods. 

“But how were you going to help, Harry? The doctors said I was fine. Not a bruise on me.” He says it more to convince himself, because this makes absolutely no sense. He didn’t have bruises. But his shirt was bloodied and torn up. 

Harry's biting his lip again, gaze drifting back to the floor. He looks as uneasy as Louis feels.

Louis continues, “I saw my shirt it was all ripped up and there was blood it. Ketchup, too, but mostly blood.”

Harry nods.

“I wasn't fine, was I?”

Harry shake his head, and a deep breath rattles through him. 

“There was a lot of blood. I don't think you were conscious, you weren't-- You weren't focusing. I tried talking to you but you were like, not there. I had to do something.”

“What did you do, Harry?” It's almost like the world is standing still as Louis waits for Harry to answer. He can hear the blood rushing through his ears, and the skin of his belly is pulsing with his heartbeat, as if the handprint is more alive suddenly. 

“I-- I healed you.”

Louis remembers Harry's face so close to his whole he was on the ground. The concentration evident. It didn't make sense. But the alternative didn't make sense either.

His throat is dry when he asks, “How?” It comes out more quietly than he intends. 

“I uh, manipulated the molecular structure of your cells? Like, repaired them.”

Well. That’s good to know, but doesn’t quite answer Louis’ question.

“But _how_ , Harry?”

“I'm. I'm not from around here,” Harry says. He seems to be considering each and every word he says, speaking more slowly than usual.

“I know, you're from Holmes Chapel.”

Harry laughs weakly, glancing up at him with a sad smile. “No, I mean before that. I'm not from _here_.”

Louis blinks at him. That doesn’t even make any sense. What does where Harry’s from have to do with this? “I'm sorry you're gonna have spell this out for me. Where exactly you from?”

Harry shrugs. “I don't know really but just like, not here.”

“By which you mean…” Louis gestures around him. “Like... England? Europe? Earth?”

Harry nods. And well. Isn't that a surprise.

“Are you trying to tell me that you're an alien?”

Harry's face is pale, paler than Louis has ever seen it. And he actually seems to have shrunk into himself. “Please don't tell anyone.”

Well. Louis is pretty sure that’s the last thing he’d ever do. Go around telling people Harry’s an alien.

“Mate, you definitely don't have to worry about that. So you like, you fixed me? That's what happened?” 

Harry nodded.

“I remember Liam shouting at you… and he gave you a ketchup bottle and was holding people back. So he knows?

Harry nods. “He tried to stop me.” 

Louis stomach drops at that. If Harry had listened who knows if Louis would even be standing here right now? 

He sits down next to Harry, legs feeling weaker. Harry seems surprised that Louis would dare to come so close, but doesn’t speak.

“You said you hadn't done this before. How did you know it would work?”

“I've done it on animals. Just not people. Humans are just too risky, it’s too much exposure.” He snorts. “Obviously.”

“But you saved me.”

Harry nods. And just--it makes no sense. If Harry is telling the truth and he's an alien why would he take that kind of risk? As much as Louis had been crushing on him he’s not delusional; he knows they're barely acquaintances. “Why?” 

“What do you mean? You were hurt.”

“You just said the risk for exposure is huge. And this was in public… There were people watching. This wasn't safe.”

“It was you.” He shrugs. 

“But you barely talk to me. You avoid me whenever you can.” Louis voice sound foreign to his own ears, light and floaty. “Why would you care?”

“Of course I care. I just.” He fiddles with the hem of his shirt, the fabric slipping through his fingers. The same fingers that somehow saved Louis’ life. He still can’t quite wrap his head around it. “Didn't want to get too close to you, or anyone, really.”

“Because you're… Not from here.”

Harry nods. “I can't really risk getting too close to anyone. And I know I wanted more with you than just… I don't know. School lunches and banter at footie practice.” Harry’s resolutely staring at his shoes, cheeks flushed as he speaks. 

Louis’ heart flutters and his chest tightens at the admission. Except-- “Wanted?”

Harry shakes his head. “It's still present tense. I'm sorry. I know it's a lot and I can leave you be, but please please don't tell anyone.”

“No. I wouldn't. I'm just. Processing. I need to sit down.”

“You are sitting down,” Harry points out and oh. Yeah, he is. He laughs.

“Right you are. Maybe I need to stand.”

He pushes himself off the desk and stretches himself out. Harry stands up as well, still keeping his distance. The handprint tingles and Louis find himself scratching at it absentmindedly.

Harry frowns. “Are you sure it doesn't hurt?”

“No, it's just tingling. It's been tingling ever since I saw you.”

“Can I?” Harry steps closer and extends his hand. Louis lifts his shirt and Harry bends down next to him. Very gently his fingers graze the skin of Louis’ belly.

A jolt of electricity shoots through Louis as soon as Harry’s fingers touch the mark. His skin is on fire and his vision whites out, the room disappearing around him.

Instead he sees a young Harry walking next to a girl, holding her hand. They can’t be more than six or seven years old. It’s dark and and Louis can feel a chill raking over his flesh, even though he isn’t really there. Harry and the girl aren’t wearing clothes, goosepimples standing out on their backs, the fine hair on Harry’s arms raised. 

They’re surrounded by a forest, carefully stepping over the uneven terrain. Louis can practically taste their fear, the disconnect with their surroundings. The only thing anchoring them is their linked hands squeezing tightly. They walk until they get to the side of a road and just as a car's headlights blind them Louis comes to in the classroom, panting heavily. 

He blinks repeatedly, the bright light of the headlights still sticking to his vision. Harry’s cradling him in his arms, and he slips his hands free from around his shoulders when Louis gathers his senses.

“Looked like you were gonna fall,” he excuses himself. 

Louis makes to hold onto Harry’s hand and squeezes it tightly. Harry’s other hand falls to his hip. The pressure steadying him. He takes a couple of deep breaths under Harry’s watchful eye and manages a weak, “Thank you. Again.”

Harry catches on to his shaky tone, fingers gripping tighter around Louis. His voice is hushed when he asks, “You saw something, didn’t you?” 

Louis nods. “Did you do that? Was that you?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, I--” he interrupts himself. “What, what did you see?”

“Just. You and your sister I think? In the woods. And you were so scared and confused. I could feel it. And I think you were communicating, but not with words, I couldn’t sense any words. It was more like, feelings? And it was cold and you were naked and then a car showed up. The light was so bright it was hurting my eyes, like a lot.”

Harry blinks. “That's uh. That's my earliest memory.”

“So your sister...?”

“Is also like me, yeah. She's my real sister.”

“Okay. God that was freaky.” Louis shakes his head and tries to choke out a laugh to lighten the mood. Harry’s still brooding at him, lip caught between his teeth. He has a deep worry line along his forehead that Louis wants to smooth away.

He swallows instead. Solid compromise.

“Does this happen a lot?” He asks. 

Harry shakes his head, but his fingers squeeze along Louis’ hip. He lets go with a loud breath. 

“I guess I should tell you. I, uh , also saw something. Not now! But like, when I healed you at first.”

“Oh?” He feels the loss of Harry’s touch and moseys closer. He wants to reach up and tuck Harry’s hair behind his ear, maybe even stroke his earlobe and then his neck… but that’s a bit much. He settles for tugging at Harry’s shirtsleeves, urging him to continue.

Harry tilts his hand, palm up against Louis, and Louis easily slides his fingers between Harry’s. God, his fingers are so warm and real and _human_. With fingerprints and everything. Louis doesn’t get it but still. It’s the only thing that makes sense, isn’t it? He saw it with his own two eyes, or well, with his mind. Harry and his sister's arrival to earth. Or their descent? He has no idea what to call it. 

Harry squeezes Louis’ fingers, but still doesn’t speak.

Harry’s hesitance is making his chest hurt. Louis has to ask, “It wasn’t anything bad, was it?”

Harry shakes his head, squeezes again. 

“You were holding a baby. Practically a baby yourself though. You were so happy. And smiling so huge. And I think your mother was there as and she asked what you thought the baby should be named, couldn’t hear what you said but I could feel--” he breathes in deeply, eyebrows knotting, “just a lot of love. Safety. And just warmth. Yeah. I never had anything like that.”

Louis catches his breath as Harry speaks, his heart in his throat. “That's my first memory.” 

“What did you name her?”

“Charlotte. Lottie. I didn't, I didn't pick it though, quite certain I wanted her to be named Nala or Jasmine or summat.” He laughs at that and Harry joins in, his eyes sparkling in the dimly lit room. Louis wants to make him laugh some more, just drown in the sound and in Harry’s dimples. 

Harry stills quickly, though, straightening his mouth. “I didn't know that would happen. I'm sorry if it freaked you out."

“No I-- I think I liked it?” Harry lets out a ragged breath, and Louis squeezes his hand tighter. “S’pretty cool. Though I’m sorry that’s your earliest memory, doesn’t seem quite nice.”

Harry shrugs, the slope of his shoulders resigned. Like he’s thought about this a lot. God, why did Louis have to be so insensitive? 

“Hey, it is what it is, right?”

When Harry meets Louis’ eyes his mouth is twisted.

“So you don't hate me?” He looks genuinely concerned, and Louis chest hurts. He feels like his ribs are expanding with how much he’s feeling for Harry right now, which, fuck. It’s probably not good is it? But he can’t help himself. It doesn’t matter where Harry’s from he’s still just… Harry. Gentle and warm and endearing with an addictive laughter and smile and comforting eyes that Louis wouldn’t mind staring into for a good long while. How could he possibly hate him? 

“Harry. You saved my life. If anything I owe you like… dunno. Everything. I could never hate you.”

Harry’s face flushes at Louis’ words and he moves to take Louis’ other hand in his. The way Harry worries his lip it seems he has more to say, and Louis is scared to breathe for those long seconds. Waiting for Harry to speak. If it were anyone else he’s push and prod, try to get them to speak faster and just get it out.

He’d probably wait an eternity for Harry, though. 

Just as Harry opens his mouth for the second time, there’s a knock on the door and it swings open. Harry jumps away from Louis, as if they’d been engaged in some incriminating activity and Louis has to stop himself from holding on.

The light streams into the room, casting the person in shadow, but he’d recognise Niall’s voice anywhere. “Tommo, we’re going to be late for Drama. I know you don’t want that.”

Louis rolls his eyes at Harry to put him at ease, but he’s still tense, leaning against a desk with his eyes downcast.

“Hey, Harry,” Niall says. “Didn’t take you for one to bunk off.”

“I’ve got a free period.” Harry fists are stuffed in his pockets and he stares at the floor.

“And you’re wasting it with Tommo? Poor choice, mate, poor choice.” Niall teases and Louis wants to strangle him. God. 

“Ignore everything he says, ever, at all times, everyday, always,” Louis tells Harry, and he manages to coax a smile out of him. Good.

“Hey, that’s not nice.”

“S’also not nice to interrupt.”

“Oh, was I interrupting something?”

Harry shakes his head at that and straightens his back. “No, I was just leaving. S’posed to meet up with Gemma. Was nice talking to you, Lou,” Harry says without looking at either of them. He takes long strides towards the room. His hunched shoulders straightening out into a confident line and waves them both off before leaving.

Louis just wants to lay down on the desk and groan at his misfortune. Why does Niall have the worst timing of all time?

“I guess he’s not avoiding you anymore?” Niall says and wiggles his eyebrows. God. He’s going to be insufferable for the rest of eternity. 

 

*

 

As it turns out, Harry isn’t done avoiding Louis.

He’s still attached at the hip to Gemma and Liam whenever Louis sees him at school. Sometimes he shoots Louis tight lipped smiles when they cross paths in the corridors. He’s shown up to the cafe while Louis works a couple of times, but for the most part he just sits in a booth and steals glances in Louis’ direction. But mostly, things are the same.

Louis has gotten louder, and brasher when Harry’s around, just to coax Harry into talking to him. It’s not really working. Their only proper interactions are in lab, where they swap jokes, and Louis has managed to tease out some belly laughs from Harry. They’ve gotten reprimanded, twice, because they were laughing too loudly.

But that’s not quite enough for him.

He just-- he just has so many questions for Harry. Like do his and Gemma’s parents know where they’re really from? How did they learn English? How did Harry find out he could heal people and animals? Can Gemma do the same thing? Do they have any other skills? Why are they even here (alright, Harry probably doesn’t know the answer to that one, considering he just remembers waking up in the woods all naked and cold)? And okay, maybe Louis wants to ask Harry again why he saved Louis. His heart flutters at the risk Harry went through just for _him_ and he still can’t quite process it. That Harry would risk everything for him. That he’d expose himself like that.

And maybe, just maybe Louis wants to kiss him a little bit, and play with his hair and hold hands. He’s not asking for much. (Or maybe that’s the problem, he’s asking for too much and Harry can sense it. Maybe that’s part of his supernatural extraterrestrial powers and that’s why he’s staying away. Louis would like to know, but he can’t very well slide a note with all his questions 

At least he knows better than to complain to Niall, who’s taken to digging his thumb painfully into Louis shoulder anytime he spots Harry in their periphery. Louis is probably going to have a permanent bruise, but he can’t tell Niall to stop without going into the _why_ ’s quite yet. So he grits his teeth and bears it.

 

*

 

Things come to a head a couple of weeks later, when Niall reminds Louis of their costumes for the Halloween party they’re going to that weekend.

They’d been working on outfits all summer and fall, trying to outdo the previous year’s efforts. Niall had convinced Louis that they should dress up as aliens, “‘Cuz there’s so much variety and you can be gross and scary all at once. It’ll be proper nice,” he’d said.

And yes, Louis had agreed it’d be sick to be decked out as twin aliens as recently as weeks ago. But he didn’t _know_ then. The thought makes him uncomfortable now, when Niall shows up at his door already dressed up, carrying Louis’ costume under his arm. 

He tries to protest, but Niall’s spent months on this (supposedly) and he refuses to back down, not understanding what Louis’ problem is. He can’t very well explain, either. 

“S’it not cool enough for you anymore or summat?” Niall asks, voice reedy and annoyed. Louis has been stubbornly evasive on the topic of the party. But now Niall’s here, all suited up in a silver bodysuit and face paint, large plastic ears covering his own and Louis can’t very well avoid this anymore, can he? It’s too late to back out.

He shrugs, “Just not feeling it, I think. Dunno if I’ll even fit in my costume.” It’s the only excuse he can think of, even though it’s a shitty one since his motto has always been ‘the tighter, the better.’

Expectedly, Niall rolls his eyes. 

“You felt it enough when we decided on this, there’s no backing down now. Chivvy along, we haven’t got all night. You should be done by the time I’ve touched up this face paint, it keeps wearing off. Poor quality, that is.”

Niall pushes a bottle of beer into Louis’ hands, as if that’ll ease his nerves. He’s probably right. He downs it quickly before getting changed, hoping for the alcohol to calm his nerves a bit.

His outfit is a bright green, form fitting bodysuit, with a sequined cape and a sparkly headband with antennae. He’d loved the outfit originally, the green sparkles suiting him well, but now he cringes at the thought of parading around in this get up if there’s even the slightest chance that Harry will see him. 

The odds are probably in his favour, he thinks, despite the acid pooling in his belly. He hasn’t seen Harry at any parties at all, ever, so why would he start showing up now? He’s probably safe, he repeats to himself, as he uses a glittery eyeliner pencil to draw swirls on his face, and outline his lips. 

 

*

 

The crowd is thick when they arrive at Josh’s house, and it’s dark and loud and no one’s really paying attention to Louis and Niall, which Louis would normally detest, but tonight that feels quite good. He and Niall had only split a couple of drinks at his house before heading out, and he needs more to calm his nerves.

Louis heads straight to the basement to suss out Josh’s not so secret stash of beer. He’s not feeling nearly drunk enough to be his regular boisterous party self. Once he gets more to drink he can loosen up, and maybe not feel like his cape is suffocating him and like he’s betraying Harry with every step.

The door to the basement is locked, and he jerks at the handle repeatedly. It only locks from the inside, he knows, so he pounds the door with his fist. He really needs to get to the beer. 

“S’a bit early to get off, innit? Go find a bed instead of hogging the basement!” 

The door opens and Gemma’s standing in front of him, eyes narrowed and mouth thin.

“You.”

Louis has never wanted to disappear more. She knows. She knows that he knows, there’s no other reason for her steely gaze as her eyes dart from his antenna to his makeup to his cape and _oh, God_. 

“It’s not what it looks like,” he says, words tumbling out of his mouth. 

“Really? Certainly looks like you’ve dressed up like a caricature of an alien. Doesn’t it, Haz?”

She turns around as she speaks, and Louis follows her line of sight only to spot Harry, precariously perched on the sofa. 

Fuck. 

Fuck fuck fuck.

“Hi, Harry,” Louis manages to croak out, his voice no longer his own. 

“Hi.”

Gemma rolls her eyes, and grips Louis’ wrist. She pulls him into the room and locks the door behind him. 

In any other circumstance Louis would be terrified. But Harry’s there, with his warm, somewhat sad eyes, and Louis just wants to explain and make things right.

“Let me guess, it wasn’t your idea?” Gemma asks behind him, and Louis doesn’t even bother turning around to face her. He’s still staring at Harry. He’s got a half empty bottle in his hand, fingers working at the label, tearing it off in strips.

He swallows thickly. “No. I mean, I agreed to it. But that was months ago. Before I knew…”

Harry blinks at him. “S’okay,” he says with a shrug, but his face is still downcast.

“No, it’s not.” Louis moves closer to him, gingerly taking a seat on the couch. He tries to make himself comfortable, crossing his legs and facing Harry head on.

“Before you knew what?” Gemma asks, ignoring Louis and Harry’s quiet exchange. “What do you know, Louis?”

His heart hammers in his chest. He just wishes Harry would look at him properly. “Before I knew where you came from.”

“Oh, you know where we’re from do you? Because even we don’t know that. Care to share your infinite knowledge?” Her tone is snappy and sharp, slicing through the air. 

“Gem, please.”

“Please, what, Harry? You spilled the beans to this, this kid, who doesn’t even have an ounce of respect for us. For _you_. Look at him.”

Harry turns to Louis, studying him properly for the first time. Louis must be making a good job looking devastated, because Harry’s lips quirk briefly, and he squeeze Louis’ knee. 

“I think he looks nice.” That is not what Louis expects to hear, but the words brush over his skin and he can feel himself sinking deeper into the sofa. 

“Good Lord.” Gemma groans.

She crosses her arms, fingers tapping against her elbow. She studies Louis carefully. 

“I could kill you with my eyes, you know,” she says finally, after a beat of silence. 

“Gem,” Harry reprimands her. He turns to Louis, voice softening, “She can't actually do that. She wouldn't even if she could.”

“M’not worried,” Louis says, and he actually means it. He’s not worried about either of them hurting him. He’s worried about hurting them. The realisation is thick in his throat, and he has to swallow it down. He already hurt them, just by dressing up like this. “‘Sides, would be pretty hard to explain to the coroners, I think.”

Harry giggles at that, squeezing Louis’ knee tighter. 

“This isn’t a joke, Harry. I'm trying to clean up your mess and you’re undermining me with your flirting.”

Harry blushes and takes another sip. His hand shifts on Louis’ knee, but Louis puts his hand on top of Harry’s, keeping it there. 

“You can trust me.”

Gemma looks completely unimpressed. “Sorry, but when it comes to my life, and my brother’s life I need a bit more than someone’s word. Especially someone wearing tacky alien get up.”

He clears his throat. “I'm not a mess, okay. You can trust me. I know you think you can't but you can. Harry saved my life, probably. There's no way I'd do anything to jeopardise his safety or yours. I owe him.”

Louis tries to keep his eyes trained on Gemma, but out of the corner of his eye he can see Harry squirming where he sits. Ducking his head, fingers tugging at his hair nervously.

“Now if you don't mind. I'd like to have a word with Harold alone.”

“That's not his name.”

Louis rolls his eyes, says, “I know that. Why don't you find Niall and insult his costume, I'm sure you'll find it quite tasteless also, ‘sides, he’s to blame for mine.”

“Gemma,” Harry pleads, and she looks at him. They stare at each other for a bit in silence. Louis isn’t sure if they’re doing some sort of sibling communication or alien communication, but it doesn’t really matter, as long as it works out in his favour. 

“Fine. But I will find a way to eviscerate you and destroy the evidence if you so much as touch a hair on Harry’s head.”

“What if I want him to?” Harry pipes up, and Louis has to catch his breath before he gasps. Fuck. 

“Ugh,” Gemma groans. She walks over to them on the sofa, taking Harry’s beer. “This belongs to me now. And this,” she says, roughly grabbing Louis’ headband and perching it onto her head. “Suits me better anyway.”

“Enjoy,” Louis says because it’s all he can think of to say. Gemma flips them off as she leaves, leaving the door open behind her.

“You’re not dressed up,” Louis says and Harry shrugs. 

“Not used to trying to stand out,” Harry says, and oh. Of course. God, Louis is so fucking dumb sometimes.

Harry snatches his hand from Louis knee, and Louis wants to protest. 

“What did you want to talk about?” Harry asks, trying to sound more detached.

Louis shrugs. He scuffles closer to Harry as best as he can, his knees pressing against Harry’s thighs as he kneels next to him. “Just wanted to have some alone time since you're still avoiding me for some reason. S’pretty rare to get some one on one time with you.”

Harry's lips twitch and he smiles slowly. “That wasn't-- I came to the party to see you. That’s how-- that’s how Gemma figured out that you knew. She couldn’t figure out why I wanted to come here so I had to tell her. She took me down here for a stern reprimanding.”

Harry’s cheeks are flushed and his eyelashes dark as he blinks. His lips quivering as he speaks. As if Louis would run away at a confession like that.

“You could have just talked to me at school.”

Harry lets out a deep exhale. 

“I just don't get why you'd want to hang out with me now that you know.”

“I feel safe with you,” Louis says without thinking. He hasn’t thought about it, but sitting here, alone with Harry, he knows it’s true. 

“You're not scared?” Harry’s voice is high, disbelieving. 

“The opposite.” 

“I don't want you to feel indebted to me. And like, want to hang out because you like, owe me something. That's not why I did that.” 

Louis can’t help the laugh he barks out. Harry looks alarmed. “God, no. S’not like that at all. You really have no idea do you? I've been into you for like, ages. You've just been too busy avoiding me to notice I guess.”

“Ages?” 

Louis nods, fingers twitching with how much he wants to touch Harry. Just his shirtsleeves, or his collar or his hair. He just wants to touch him, so badly.

Harry looks away and shifts, moving so that he’s facing Louis properly. Harry looks so serious, a line drawn on his forehead, and his eyes so dark. He blinks slowly.

“Does that mean-- can I?” He clears his throat. “Can I kiss you?”

Louis nods fervently as soon as Harry speaks, and there’s no time for him to answer before Harry’s mouth is on his. 

It’s a hungry kiss, wet and warm and Louis feels like he’s sinking into the sofa. His entire self just vanishing until he’s just a pair of lips. He can feel Harry’s hands on him, cradling his jaw and it sends frissons of electricity down his spine. It’s like he doesn’t even exist. Nothing exists except for the points where he and Harry touch. 

He opens his mouth up when Harry’s tongue prods at his lips, and as soon as they touch all he sees is black. His entire face is burning with the need for more, and soon there’s spots of light swirling behind his eyelids, as if he’s floating through space. He’s moving faster and faster, the lights blur into colourful lines. His heartbeat is speeding up along with the images he’s seeing and he feels like his entire body is vibrating with need. 

They’re both panting when they pull apart. Louis is clutching at Harry’s shirt, and he loosens his grip. 

“Was that? Did you... Did you see that?” Louis asks, heart in his throat.

Harry nods, breathless. Louis moves his palm against Harry’s chest, feeling the solid hammering of his heart. 

“Is it always like that?” He has to ask. He’s not sure he’ll be happy with the answer, but he has to know.

Harry shakes his head. His hair bounces against his temple, his hairline damp. There’s a green smudge of eyeliner around Harry’s mouth, transferred from Louis’ lips. His makeup is probably ruined, but he couldn’t care less.

“I've only kissed like, two people but no, it wasn’t-- it wasn’t like that.”

A prickle of jealousy shoots up Louis' spine and he tightens his fist. Not the time for that.

He swallows. “Same. I mean, uh, more than two. But that’s never happened before.”

Louis grabs Harry’s hand, tracing the lines in his palm. They look the same as his

“Do you think it has something to do with…” Louis asks, trailing off. He moves his hand around, gesturing to the empty room. He should probably be able to say it out loud, if he wants Harry to know he’s okay with it. He continues, “The alien thing?”

“Maybe. Dunno.” Harry shrugs. He moves away from Louis, shoulders sloping as he shrinks where he sits. “I’m sorry.”

“What? Why are you apologising? Here I was gonna ask for another go.”

Harry’s mouth opens.

“Only if you want, of course.”

“You’re not scared?” Harry asks, tone reverent.

“Not at all.” Harry looks surprised. “How many times am I gonna have to tell you you don’t scare me?”

Harry laughs, and the tension seems to disappear from his face. “A lot, probably.” 

“Alright, I can do that.”

“Yeah?” Harry smiles fondly, and his thumb rubs at Louis’ temple. He’s closer again, but not quite close enough for Louis’ liking. His skin fizzes at Harry’s touch. He’s not quite sure how he’s supposed to go without, now that he knows what it’s like to be in Harry’s orbit.

“As long as you stop avoiding me,” he adds, for good measure. Louis needs to make sure they’re on the same page.

“Don’t know how I could, now.” Harry smiles, wide and open. His eyes are crossed from staring at Louis mouth. He licks his lips, and Louis’ belly feels full of air. He could probably drown right here and be very happy with it.

“Oi! Are you saying you were just waiting for me to put out? I’m insulted.”

Harry laughs, and shakes his head. He tugs at Louis shoulders, and Louis topples over, closer to Harry. “We can go back to the party, if you want. Mingle.” 

“Nah, I think I’d rather keep you to myself,” he says, and Harry grins. 

“Same.”

They fall easily into each other, and Louis has never felt so light and so full at the same time, his heart swelling painfully in his chest. 

He’ll have all the time in the world for questions later.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
